A/N: Random story of random is random. Enjoy, I suppose. Also, ignore the rather…terrible lyrics. The song is catchy in tune, and I love Haley Williams. Thus, when I heard the song on the radio, the idea formulated in my tiny brain, and…here is the story…crappy rap lyrics and all. Also, please, let's pretend Setsuna can fiddle with time as she damn well pleases.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not my car, my mother owns that. Not even my soul, my job owns that. The story is based off of Airplanes by B.O.B, and Haruka and Michiru belong to…not me. T_T
"I could use a dream or a genie or a wish
To go back to a place much simpler than this
Cause after all the partyin' and smashin' and crashin'
And all the glitz and the glam and the fashion
And all the pandemonium and all the madness
There comes a time where you fade to the blackness
And when you're staring at that phone in your lap
And you hoping but them people never call you back" – Airplanes by B.O.B. Featuring Haley Williams.
"Haruka?" Her voice was a whisper, which caught the senshi of the winds off-guard. Haruka had jumped, then smiled, setting her suitcase down. She hung up the keys she carried in her left hand, and moved towards the bedroom that was down the hall in the spacious flat she shared with the gorgeous violinist. The racer leaned against the door frame, her lover sitting cross-legged on the king sized bed. Michiru lifted her eyes to meet the eyes of her girlfriend, Haruka startled to see them blood shot from crying. She felt the air leave her chest and she moved to stand by the bed, kneeling.
"Michiru…what's wrong?" She cupped Michiru's cheeks, the woman leaning into her touch, having ached for it for months while the senshi before her had been traveling the world on the F1 circuit. The senshi of the deep opened her eyes, pushing a magazine towards Haruka, a picture of the blonde with her arm around an Italian actress. The racer's eyes widened, and she looked at Michiru's face, shaking her head. "This isn't what this looks like. At all. I'd never look at anyone but you. She's my sponsor's wife, for Serenity's sake!"
"Get out, Haruka."
Haruka leaned her head back against the head rest of her car, unsure as to why she had returned to that particular beach. Iwake Beach. It was odd, considering, that had been the place she had asked to go many a night, calling to wake the racer from her slumber, and politely request a visit to this place.
Of course, she would always take her there. The blonde would pull herself out of the warm comfort of her double bed, and get dressed, usually pulling on the closest clothes she had. The drive there was mostly silent, soft fingers interlaced as the wind provided the only music they needed for the evening. She would turn her head, glancing ever so often at Haruka, her blonde hair being tousled by the wind she held so dear. Her lips would curl into a smile, and her eyes would turn back to the long and winding road ahead, her thumb caressing the roughness of Haruka's palm.
The time they spent at this particular beach was perhaps the blonde's favorite time. Watching the woman she had fallen in love with standing in the surf as the waves lapped at her ankles lustfully. She had never been jealous of the people who associated with the woman before her, but she often found that odd feeling of jealousy building in her throat as she had watched Michiru look over the seemingly endless expanse of her element. Haruka shook her shaggy blonde hair, attempting to shake the memories from her, but to no avail. She stepped from the yellow Toyota 2000GT she had been sitting in, and bent down to unlace the red Ferrari Puma's that graced her feet, setting them aside. She rolled up her pants, and walked out into the surf, feeling her soul calm just at the simple gesture. Haruka looked down, frowning as the water was sucked away from her feet, as if appalled by her very presence. The racer felt her fists ball up at her side at the ocean's rejection of her, just like Michiru had done two years prior.
She could only assume it was because they had both allowed their ambitions to come between them. They had both achieved success far too quickly, and with that, they lost sight of who they were. With the success that came easily to them both, came sacrifices. Michiru began touring the world as her violin career took off. Haruka, after signing a deal with Ferrari, began traveling where the F1 races were, her own racing dream becoming a reality. At first, it was the two of them meeting up when they could. Michiru would fly to wherever Haruka was, or vice versa, the two of them donning disguises as they made their way around as tourists. With Galaxia defeated, and the world as it should be, they were allowed to finally live.
Then, the picture perfect life came crashing down around them. Michiru's schedule became even more cramped; Haruka's training became increasingly difficult to work around. The fights became common then. Cell phone calls that once were the highlights of their days became the enemy; accusations turning into angry whispers. Though their arguments were never screaming matches, they were enough to wear on the two of them, forcing them further apart still. It wasn't that their love for each other was any less; the fights were all about time.
Of course, then, there was the flirty attitude of the racer, causing the tabloids to throw themselves into a frenzy; giving them an excuse to place a spin on the pictures they took. A cousin in Germany was suddenly a secret romance. A fellow F1 driver became a change of heart. Each story was a lie sewn delicately into a tale of possibility. At first, the two of them had laughed at the free publicity, but after months away from home, days at a time when they wouldn't be able to call, the images began to weigh heavily on the violinist's heart. Seeds of doubt weaseled their way into her mind, and slowly, she began to believe the lies being spun about her partner, her lover, her Haruka.
Haruka moved back towards her beach, pulling her mind from the cavernous world of regret. She clutched her tennis shoes in her left hand, pulling her keys out of her pocket. The blonde moved to place the key into the silver lock below her handle, however, the keys fell from her hand as something, or someone grabbed her shoulder. Haruka jumped, twisting quickly to slap the hand away, ready to fight. She left out a wheeze of relief as she caught sight of the deep purple irises that belonged to Sailor Pluto.
"Pluto! You about gave me a heart attack," she murmured, grabbing just about her left breast dramatically, a smirk on her lips. Sailor Pluto chuckled softly at her theatrics, and rested the heavy rod she wielded in the soft sand.
"Yes, well, that would be quite ironic indeed, wouldn't it? 'Racer dies from heart attack after surviving dozens of race-related crashes!' The papers would go berserk over such a story," she said, her voice filled with mirth, an underlying tone of worry barely distinguishable.
"Funny," Haruka's tone was flat suddenly at the mention of the media; her gray eyes were focused out beyond the horizon, as if searching for someone.
"She misses you, you know," Setsuna said quietly, her footsteps silent as she stepped up beside her friend.
"She won't return my calls," the blonde finally murmured after a moment or tow of silence.
"Would you return her calls if you were in her shoes?" The mirth was back in her voice, much to the racer's dismay. Haruka wanted to scream "Of course! Of course I would return Michiru's calls!" But no such argument left her lips. She shifted her weight onto her left foot, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I don't know," was her answer. Setsuna shook her head, completely baffled by the two senshi's blatant disregard to how the other was feeling.
"Haruka…if you could go back in time, would you?"
"In a heartbeat," she said without a second thought.
"Uh huh, and how would you change things? Would you give up your racing career? Would you beg Michiru to give up her latest tour?" She questioned gently, already knowing the answers before they had a chance to formulate in the blonde's mind.
"You know I would never ask that of her, just as she would never ask such a thing of me. Those were our dreams, our aspirations…" she trailed off, frowning to herself as she finally allowed her mind to turn on. She allowed herself to stop running on autopilot.
"And?"
"And I just realized my dreams mean nothing without her by my side. Not anymore," Haruka whispered, the wind carrying her voice to some far off place, where a violinist with tresses the color of the waves slept peacefully. Setsuna turned, her lips curled into a smile.
"If you promise not to tell, and to not alter the time line too too much, I can help you," she stated simply, moving her hand to inspect her nails. Haruka shifted her eyes from the dark horizon, the breeze moving to ruffle their hair.
"You'd…do that?" She questioned softly, her eyes wide with wonder.
"You're both my good friends, and I hate to see either of you suffer," she said, a glint of mystery in her eyes. Haruka nodded.
"I promise. We won't alter the time line to the point of destroying it," her face was threatening to break from her smile. She was going to see her Michiru again! Not the Michiru she watched in interviews, the one with a false smile and cold eyes, but the Michiru who had held her heart so tenderly, winning it over and over again with a simple touch.
"Good. Now, you've time-traveled before, right?" Setsuna asked, Haruka shaking her head.
"No, I have-," she started, but was cut off short, vanishing t leave Setsuna stand there alone. Slowly, the yellow Toyota that Setsuna was standing in front of, faded away.
Haruka woke up on a black leather sofa, yawning. She frowned, her shoulders slumping as she remembered the dream she had just had. The racer stood up and stretched, making her way into the kitchen. She turned when she heard a loud crash from down the hall, near her office, and the blonde ran towards the source of the sound, her eyes widening when she saw Michiru standing in the center of the room in front of an easel, her stool sideways on the floor. Haruka's eyes widened and she moved to hug the painter tightly, burying her face against her shoulder.
"Haruka! What's gotten into you?" Michiru wrapped her arms around Haruka's shoulders, her one hand still holding the brush she had been using, dragging a streak of burnt sienna up the blonde's white dress shirt. Haruka was far to enthralled by the smell that was Michiru to care, her hug tightening.
"I just missed you so much," she whispered against her hair, her voice cracking softly.
"Tch! I've been here the whole time!"
"Setsuna. I can only imagine that you're here because you've fixed our glitch," a soft, sweet voice rang out in the large hall.
"Yes, my queen. Haruka took the offer, and they have been reunited."
"Good."